Let Go
by Ankh-Ascendant
Summary: BakuraSeto It's Seto's birthday, a day he hates with a passion. Mokuba tells Seto's lover Bakura that he has to make him enjoy it. lemon


Let Go 

Author: setosgirl

Rating: nc-17

Seme: Bakura

Summary: Seto Birthday Fic. Seto hates his birthday; it's Bakura's mission to make him enjoy it.

Disclaimer: If I owned it, this would be real… snerk Aren't you happy I don't?

♥

Ryou woke Bakura up with a phone on his face. "You have a phone call, yami." Duh.

He shoved him away. It was before noon… he _never_ got up before noon… "Go the fuck away or I'll send you to the Shadow Realm," he muttered, rolling over and pulling a pillow over his head.

Ryou was unintimidated. "It's a Kaiba."

Bakura grumbled and reached out for the phone, which he dragged under the pillow with his head. "Whatever you want, bitch, it better be good…" he said, his mood almost exactly halfway between cranky and horny.

"It's Mokuba."

Oh. Well, this was embarrassing. Of course, he just now noticed that Ryou hadn't specified which Kaiba it was. "What the hell do you want? I don't wake up this early."

"It's ten-thirty."

"My point exactly. Tell me and get off my phone so I can go back to sleep."

"Today is nii-sama's birthday."

"Whoop-dee-freakin-doo. So what?"

"I'll come over there and pound your head in if you really mean that."

"Fine," Bakura relented. He had never been afraid of Seto, despite his high-and-mighty, intimidating asshole mask… but Mokuba was a little scary, even he had to admit. "I'll get him something. Was that all?"

"No, I wasn't calling because I wanted you to get him something," Mokuba said. "Seto hates his birthday."

"Oh… Why?" He uncovered his head and sat up in his bed, rubbing his head and messy hair with the hand not holding the phone.

"I don't really know, for sure… He was just fine with it until… well, you know."

Yes, he did know. Gozaburo. Bastard. A quiet growl escaped his throat. "Yeah, I know."

"Yeah, well… I think he did something to him. The first year he adopted us. He claimed Seto was sick and nobody could see him for like three or four days… he's hated it ever since. He doesn't come out of his room at all, and nobody's allowed to see him or talk to him."

"So, what? You were calling to tell me to stay away?"

"Like hell!" the twelve-year-old said vehemently. "I'll never forgive you if you do. I want you to make him like his birthday again. If anyone can make him enjoy today, it'll be you."

"No pressure or anything," Bakura said dryly.

"Please, Bakura?"

"You're making those eyes, aren't you?"

"I might be. Please?" His voice had a distinctly wheedling undertone to it.

"Fine, I'll do whatever I can. Happy?"

"Yes! Make sure that Seto gets happy today and I'll never ask you for anything again!"

Bakura snorted. "Yeah, right. Now let me go back to sleep."

Mokuba hung up with a cheerful beep, and Bakura scowled lightly at the phone. "Next time you pull a trick on me like that, hikari," he yelled as he forced himself out of bed, "I'll shove the phone so far up your fucking ass you'll be ringing through your nose." He stepped out into the living room. "Got that?"

Ryou smiled sweetly. "Trick, yami? Would I do something like that?"

Bakura just snorted and halfheartedly threw the phone at him. Ryou dutifully caught it and put it away. "I'm going to cheer up Mr. Depressive. Don't wait up."

Ryou eyed him critically. "Aren't you going to shower, or at least brush your hair first?"

Bakura put his hands deep in his hair and ruffled it up. "There. Beautiful. You say anything about how I smell and I'll kick your ass. A shirt would probably be good, though…" He wandered back into his room.

So, an hour later, having showered and brushed his hair and changed clothes, he pulled up to the mansion, noting sourly that normally he would only now be getting out of bed. There was no one visible when he went into the house unannounced, but that was fine. He should know where Seto's bedroom was by now, after all.

Knocking on the door elicited no response. "Seto, open the damn door!"

Silence. No answer, no door opening. He scowled. "Come on, bitch, open up." And this, of course, got more silence. The silence got another scowl. After a moment, he quickly entered to code to the lock on the door – 0926, Mokuba's birthday, of course – and set about picking the manual lock. It took about three seconds.

His eyes quickly scanned Seto plain bedroom; it was obviously empty. The bed was mussed up, as though Seto'd been tossing in his sleep. Balcony doors were open, and the balcony was empty. Of course, the shower was running, so he had a fairly good idea where Seto was.

He pushed open the bathroom door, and was surprised not to be assaulted by a rolling cloud of steam; Seto liked his showers _hot_. Plead the fifth on how he'd know such a thing.

"Yo, Seto," he said, opening the door to the shower. And frowned, immediately kneeling down. Seto was on his knees, curled over himself in the bottom of the shower. He looked like he was crying. Despite the fact that one look told him that the hot water was turned completely on, the water was ice cold as it hit Bakura's hand.

"Shit, bitch, how long have you been in here?" The fond nickname seemed to have no effect on Seto; without waiting for an answer, he pulled him soaking and shivering into his lap, out of the water. "You're going to kill yourself like this."

Seto mutely shook his head, his forehead on Bakura's shoulder, and turned his wrists out, exposing several sets of pale scars that he already knew were there, but no new marks. Bakura ran his fingers lightly threw his hair. "Good boy…"

He picked Seto up and carried him back to his bed, and wrapped him in a warm, dry blanket, rubbing him down as he curled up in a ball. "I'll be right back," he said, and kissed his forehead lightly. It took a moment to shut off the shower, and he was drying off his arm on his sleeve as he came back to find Seto sitting up against the head of his bed with his legs drawn up, wrapped in the blanket, staring down at the sheet at his feet.

"Are you all right?" he asked, sitting beside him. He rubbed his arms through the blanket, trying to warm him. Seto didn't answer, and he put his arms around him. "Mokuba told me why you hate your birthday," he said, with a growl at the mere thought of Gozaburo. "What did he do to you?"

At first, Seto didn't answer. Bakura thought he was going to be silent the rest of the day… that was okay, sometimes Seto fell in these moods. Like he wasn't listening to the real world but something only he could hear. They disturbed him a little, but they didn't really seem anything to worry about.

When he finally did open his mouth, the voice that came from it didn't sound like his at all, something much older and darker.

"You turn thirteen today, boy. Time for you to become a man."

Then his voice became so drastically different, it was hard to realize they came from the same throat. It was his own… but younger… deader. "Yes, Father."

"Come here." There was a pause. "Take off your clothes." Pause. "All of them."

"W-why?"

"Do it, boy, before you make me angry."

"Y-yes, Father…"

Bakura swallowed thickly as he realized what he was hearing. Seto was reciting, word for word, noise for noise, what had happened the first time his stepfather had raped him. And his eyes… he hadn't blinked yet, just staring at the bed. Was this what he listened to? What played over and over in his head? Did that bastard still really own Seto's soul this much?

"F-father, what are you… Please, no!"

"Shut up, bitch!" Bakura winced, and vowed never to call Seto that again. The black hatred in that word… The loathing and contempt…

"Seto, stop it…" he said quietly, trembling slightly. Seto was still utterly motionless. "_Please_ stop." He didn't want to hear this…

There was a quiet whimper from Seto's expressionless face. "Father – Father, no! Don't! _Please_!" Bakura couldn't take it; he put his hands over his ears, but he couldn't block out Seto's voice – no, Gozaburo's voice from Seto's lips.

"Hold still, boy! Good for nothing little whore!"

Seto screamed suddenly, in that little-kid voice of his. His face didn't change, though. His eyes didn't waver.

Bakura couldn't take it; he pulled Seto around to face him and slapped him, hard, leaving an angry red mark on his pale skin as his face turned away. "Seto, fucking stop it!" he yelled, his entire body trembling slightly, a tear actually threatening to fall from his eyes.

Seto turned back toward him and blinked. "Baku…? Oh, god… I thought…" He collapsed against him, burying his face in his chest. "What happened? Why are you crying? I don't remember anything after waking up and needing… needing to be clean, to take a shower…"

"I'm not crying, moron," Bakura said, roughly wiping his eyes with one hand as the other wrapped around Seto tightly.

"I did it again, didn't I?" Seto asked dully. "Mokuba said that sometimes… when I space out… I start playing it out loud…"

"Yeah, you did," Bakura said. "You scared the hell out of me. Don't ever do it again."

Seto's voice was a near whisper. "I'm sorry…"

He sighed. "No, I'm sorry. It's not your fault. None of it is your fault. It's _his_ fault."

Seto shuddered and held onto him, but said nothing. Bakura held him for a moment, then pulled back and threw some pants at Seto. "Get dressed."

Seto blinked at him. "Why?" he asked quietly.

"Because I said so, Seto. Mokuba wanted me to make you enjoy this day, and I'm sure as hell going to try."

Seto didn't move for a moment, but finally relented and dressed silently. Bakura nodded and took his arm, taking him from the room. It was obvious Seto didn't want to go anywhere, but Bakura couldn't stand the thought of leaving him there alone to keep having flashbacks – or staying there with him to be forced to witness them. He was already uncomfortable enough just knowing about Seto's past; he didn't need to hear a replay of it. He didn't think he could stand to hear a replay of it.

"Where are we going?" Seto asked as they stepped outside, making him wince in the sunlight.

"Somewhere where you can forget that bastard and have a little fun." Seto nodded silently, his eyes downcast, as he opened the door to the black convertible and helped him sit down. He didn't like how Seto was acting. True, in private he was almost never like he was in public, and could in fact be quite the uke… but to see him acting this meekly submissive…

"Snap out of it, bitch." Seto winced – very little, but Bakura noticed, and berated himself. He wondered if it had always affected Seto like that and he had just never noticed. Probably. "I meant, snap out of it, _Seto_. And if I ever call you that again, feel free to kick my ass."

Seto just mutely shook his head, and Bakura frowned again, but started the car and began driving. He didn't know where they were going at first, but that wasn't the important part. The important part was to take Seto away from that house, away from those memories, and make him forget that he had ever had an evil stepfather. He reached over and took Seto's hand in his own while he drove, and Seto squeezed back gratefully.

Inspiration struck him as he passed a 7-11, and he squealed his tires in a quick U-turn, jolting them both with his hard stop before the doors, Seto's reflexes so dulled by his melancholy that he barely raised a hand in time to keep his head from smashing into the dashboard. "Give me a credit card and wait here," he said. Seto blinked once in mild surprise, but did as he was told. Bakura snagged the thin plastic and hopped out of the car, telling Seto he'd be right back.

Actually, it was about twenty minutes that Seto spent alone, staring over the side of the car but not seeing any of it. He managed not to be speaking aloud when Bakura returned bearing several plastic bags, though, and realized he was back, blinking and looking over at him.

The credit card was firmly replaced in his hand, and he looked at it for a moment before returning it to his wallet. "What did you buy?"

"It's a surprise," Bakura said. "I bet you won't be hungry for another hour or so, will you?" It was a rather rhetorical question. Seto was rarely hungry, and Bakura hated how thin he was. It wasn't healthy.

"I'm good," Seto said quietly. Bakura nodded and pulled out of the parking lot, taking Seto's hand again.

They had a drive of over an hour, and it was spent in utter silence. Seto was just staring out at the changing scenery, as they passed from sleepy midday city to lazy suburbs to downright country. Empty golden land dominated for a few miles, but as they neared Bakura's destination, the great deciduous trees took over, their foliage the brilliant spectacle of the season.

He squeezed Seto's hand as he turned down a barely visible path, getting his attention. Seto looked at him silently. "Hey – stop thinking about him," he said.

"I try…" Set said quietly, glancing away again, his eyes downcast and looking at his own legs. "It's hard… He did it my next birthday too. Three days of rape and torture… It was the only birthday present I ever got from him."

Bakura didn't have anything he could say to that, so he just squeezed Seto's hand reassuringly and pulled the car to a stop. "Almost there," he said, finally letting Seto's hand go. He hopped from the car and grabbed the bags as Seto more slowly exited the vehicle, then gently took the brunet's hand and led him forward.

Seto followed without a word, looking only down at his feet as Bakura led them unerringly through the forest. Seto didn't know where they were going, for Bakura had never taken him here – he would never admit it aloud, but he had been saving it for something special. It was obvious that he didn't care, either. He was only half here, with him… the other half of him, most of his mind, was back in his room… in his past… being tortured. He needed to wake him up… make him see _here_, _now_.

Bakura smiled a little as they broke through the edge of the trees. They were in a grassy clearing, surrounded by bright trees on three sides. On the fourth, directly ahead, there was a nearly sheer cliff that fell abruptly away, a few hundred feet, to a river below. There was a waterfall visible and distinctly audible a few hundred feet over to their left, as they faced the west. There was no corresponding cliff on the other side of the river, only flat forest and grass almost level with it far below. It was late afternoon by now; the sky was clear and empty, only the pale sun high above in the west, casting long shadows.

"We're here," he said finally, and turned Seto's face up. He heard an indrawn breath and smiled a little. He knew Seto would like it here.

"It's beautiful," he said in apparent awe. Bakura nodded and pulled Seto forward, into the middle of the clear grass, then down to the ground beside him, wrapping his arm comfortably around his thin shoulders. With the other he unceremoniously dumped the contents of the half-dozen plastic bags onto the grass.

"A feast, for you," Bakura said. The plastic was tossed away, to reveal a junk food picnic; chips, sodas, snack pastries, crackers, even little deli sandwiches. All the fare of a normal 7-11. Seto blinked a couple times. They were going to come up here and gorge themselves on the unhealthiest, least natural food Bakura could possibly have thought of?

Before Seto could say anything, while he was inspecting their meal with a critical eye – Seto hated junk food, just on principle – Bakura pulled out another bag that had been inside his shirt since he'd gotten it. From the plastic wrapper he pulled a single half-bloomed rose and handed it to Seto, holding him close to him. Seto took it with a small smile, his disapproval at their repast forgotten, and leaned his head on his shoulder.

"Let's eat," Bakura suggested, saying nothing about the rose at all. Seto nodded in almost absent agreement, his gaze still focused on the blood red petals before him as he twirled the rose gently between his fingers, poking himself on sharp thorns and barely noticing. Bakura grabbed a package at random, knowing Seto wouldn't knowingly or willingly eat this stuff.

A Pringle safely in hand, he stroked Seto's hair with the hand of the arm wrapped around him. "Open up." Seto looked at him quizzically, one eyebrow slightly raised, and obeyed, opening his mouth just wide enough for Bakura to slip the chip inside. He obediently chewed it without complaint, and repeated the process when Bakura stroked his hair again, to the yami's amusement.

Most of the afternoon passed this way, with Bakura feeding junk food to his lover and just being content to watch him and make sure he wasn't slipping away again, back into his memory. For several hours, it worked.

As the sun was beginning to go down, however, Seto's hands stilled, the rose no longer spinning. His eyes unfocused slightly as he stared at the ground at the edge of the cliff. Bakura saw it and turned Seto's face toward him.

"He's not here, Seto," he said gently. "He's never been here, and he never will be. He's never going to come back."

Seto sighed a little. "I know," he said. "It doesn't stop me from thinking about him." He smoothly extracted himself from Bakura's arms and left him sitting there as he walked to the edge of the cliff, looking silently down. Bakura saw something flutter away, down toward the water far below; he realized it was a rose petal, and stood up as he saw another flutter away.

"What are you doing, Seto?" he asked, watching warily as Seto pulled another petal from the rose and let the breeze carry it away, just staring downward.

"Thinking."

Another petal fluttered away; Bakura pulled him backward from the edge and clasped his hands together. "Well, stop," he said. He was obviously thinking of killing himself… even if it wasn't conscious, he was contemplating suicide, standing there on the edge, watching the petals fall. "Stop thinking, stop remembering, stop hurting. You _are_ going to kill yourself if you don't, either on purpose or subconsciously, and I can't always be around. Just forget him."

Seto let out a breath and went limp. "I want to…"

Bakura turned him around and wrapped his arms around him, crushing the rose between them and not caring. "Then do. Let him go." He gave him a long, surprisingly gentle kiss.

Seto seemed nearly reluctant at first, but he let Bakura pull him back and seat him once more on the ground, several feet away from the remains of their meal. "Kura…" he said quietly, uncertainly, but Bakura put a hand over his lips.

"Sh. I'm not going to hurt you this time." Bakura was, by nature, not a gentle person. He was violent and sadistic, even cruel. Normally, Seto didn't mind, even liked it rough – not now. Right now, the last thing Seto needed was any sort of pain. The last thing Bakura wanted to do was cause him any.

He pushed Seto's trenchcoat off and laid him down on it, taking only a second to admire his fragile, tainted beauty before he kissed him again, running his fingers through his hair lightly. Seto closed his bright blue eyes and willingly opened his mouth to him, feeling probably more secure at that moment than he ever had before. Just hearing his violent Bakura promise that he wouldn't hurt him…

The yami pulled back and kissed his neck, slowly unbuttoning his shirt and letting it fall away before his hands, feeling every smooth, raised scar on that perfect skin and for the first time seeing them not as a reason to hate Gozaburo and feel protective of Seto, but proof of how strong Seto really was. To have endured all that he'd gone through – all he was still going through – silently and stoically. He was much stronger than he gave himself credit for. Even stronger than anyone else had ever thought.

Seto moaned quietly, and Bakura kissed his chest, peeling his shirt off and tossing it away. "Mine…" he said quietly, and kissed Seto again. "This is mine…" He pulled at the brunet's lower lip, drawing a quietly moan from him. "This is mine…" Kisses trailed down Seto's neck. "This is mine…" Each hardened nipple received a nip, making the uke gasp. Then he licked his chest directly above his pounding heart. "And this is definitely mine. And you know what?" He sat up to look at Seto.

"What?" Seto panted, looking at him through lustful, half-closed eyes.

Bakura smiled and nipped at his ear. "I'm never going to let anyone take it or hurt it in any way."

Seto shuddered and held onto Bakura's arms, and said nothing. He could read his body language well enough that Seto didn't need to say anything. Long legs moved beneath him as he kicked off his shoes, joined almost immediately on the ground by Bakura's. He quickly unbuttoned the shirt of the yami and pushed it back to reveal his skin, nearly as pale as Seto's own, both of them gleaming in the last of the fading sunlight. Bakura flung it away and hungrily kissed Seto's chest again, his hands already working at the button on his pants.

It didn't take long for both pairs to join their shirts in the legendary land of 'elsewhere'. Bakura was reassured to find Seto's need as obvious as his own; it meant that Seto couldn't possibly be thinking of Gozaburo. His entire night had been ruined not long ago when he had accidentally said something about him and Seto's entire mood vanished.

One sure hand wrapped around Seto's arousal to give it a few quick tugs, and then pulled away to leave Seto almost whimpering in need. "Kura, _please_…"

"Wait." He had no problem obliging – but, as he'd said, he didn't want to hurt Seto at all. Not tonight. With that in mind he forced himself to take his time, slowly preparing Seto with his fingers, making the brunet moan, writhing, desperate for more. Gods, he was so hot…

"Are you ready?"

"Oh, gods, yes…"

That was good, because Bakura couldn't have waited much more anyway. One quick thrust and he was buried in him, and that was good, and Seto's cry and the way he arched his back up toward him were even better. There had to have been at least a little pain, but Seto obviously didn't much mind, because his long legs were wrapped around Bakura's waist and forcing him deeper.

Bakura thrust into him as deeply as Seto's body would allow, closing his eyes in bliss at being so fully surrounded. Then he pulled out and did it again, making Seto cry out again, his bony fingers digging into his shoulders as he almost pulled himself off the ground. Seto pulled himself toward him to meet the next thrust, needing to be filled as much as Bakura needed to fill him. Seto's head was tossed back in abandon, his blue eyes hidden, his hair disarrayed and his pale throat exposed.

"Beautiful…" Bakura murmured to him, and buried himself fast and deep inside of him again. Seto gave a hoarse cry, but Bakura knew that he had heard.

"Harder!"

He obliged, slamming into Seto hard, one hand moving from its bruising grip on his hip to take his erection as the other supported him on the ground, stroking it in time to his thrusts. It sounded like Seto was trying to keep from crying out yet again; it was obviously a losing battle.

"Bakura…" Seto gasped out as his body tensed up, his member twitching in his hand. The yami gave him another hard thrust against his prostate; he nearly screamed as he released, his back arched beautifully, impossibly upward, his muscles clenching tightly. Bakura groaned and thrust shallowly, just the sight of Seto in such ecstasy pulling him over the edge with him, filling Seto with his seed as he continued to thrust into him until he had spent himself.

Seto was panting; Bakura managed to kiss him anyway without either of them running out of breath. One hand he buried in Seto's beautiful hair, resting comfortably on top of him. It took a moment before he was able to speak.

"From now on, when you think of your birthday, I want you to think of this moment, Seto," he whispered in Seto's ear when he could. "I love you."

Seto looked up into his eyes with completely unguarded blue pools of emotion, dark in the faint starlight that was all that was left to see by. He picked up the crushed rose from the ground beside him where it had fallen, thinking of Gozaburo, of all the pain…

And he let it go. He tossed the rose outward; it sailed over the edge of the cliff, where a gust of wind caught it and it twirled slowly downward, petals being torn from it and dancing gently out of sight. Seto looked back to Bakura, away from the rose as it disappeared, and rested his head against his chest.


End file.
